Lahat ng Kabanata ng Auctioned As The Mafia’s Pet: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

NICO’s POVWith eyes wide with realization, the auctioneer declares, "Sold!" in a voice that trembles a little. “To the Mafia King, Nico Demonio!”My piercing blue eyes are fixed on Carissa Ferraro, the younger sister of my ex-best friend. I realize I just won the bid and I feel triumphant.In that skimpy dress that accentuates her lovely curves, she looks stunning. Her creamy thighs and shapely legs are calling on me to widen them apart and do unimaginable things. I can't help but be amazed at how she's grown into such a beautiful woman. From her flawless green eyes, I can tell she is frightened, and strands of her silky, black hair cling to the gleam of perspiration on her forehead. My focus shifts to Carissa's father, Ricardo, the fucker who killed my parents. Although he is smiling, I can see that his jaw is tense and that his fingers are twitching uneasily by his side. He shouts, "Congratulations on winning my prize, Nico," with his oily hands extended. I resist putting my

Nico's POV Seeing Carissa stand there in just a towel is really exciting. Her olive skin gleams with water droplets, and her wet hair sticks to her face. I extend my hand and gently pull at the towel, causing it to drop to the ground and expose her nude body. She tries to conceal herself right away, but I simply push her hands away. I whisper, "Don't hide from me, darling," as I run my fingertips over her curvy hips' smooth, sensitive flesh. She tenses up, yet I can feel the fire burning through her whole body. She spits, "Don't touch me," "But I want to touch you, and I intend to enjoy every inch of you." Despite her protests, her body betrays her, and she lets out a quivering breath. I can see how her breath quickens and her nipples tighten when I touch them. I press my lips to the delicate flesh of her neck and lean in to breathe in the subtle, vanilla aroma of her skin. "Take a look at yourself. Look at how lovely you are and how well you fit in my hands." My fing

CARISSA"No one," I lie again, trying to sound nonchalant despite the guilt written all over my face.Nico raises an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "Oh, really?" He calmly walks over to me, his hands snug in the pockets of his jogger pants. "Hand over your phone," he requests, his tone firm but controlled. I'm not sure what to do, so I pause. There is no arguing with Nico's expectant stare, though. He looks at my recent call history as I grudgingly give him my phone. "Who's Landon?" he asks in a steady, low voice.My mind goes blank. "He's...my best friend," I stammer, the first thing that pops into my head.Nico's eyes flash with surprise, then narrow. "You're not allowed to have any male best friends," he states.I try to regain my confidence, drawing myself up. "You never said that in the contract," I point out."Common sense should tell you not to have a male best friend when you have a freaking husband," he says dryly. "And the next time I see you talking to your 'bestie,' y

CARISSAI take one last look around the room before unlocking the window and carefully swinging my legs over the sill. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the drop to the ground. It's not that far, but I'm not exactly athletic. I let go, landing with a soft thud on the grass.Gotta move fast before they realize I'm gone. I keep low and dart across the yard, praying the guards don't spot me. Lady luck must be on my side because they are distracted and I make it to the sidewalk unnoticed. Now what? I start running, not even caring which direction I'm going. Anywhere else is better than back there. The cold night air whips through my hair as I pump my legs as fast as I can. The problem is, I don't have my phone because of course it is in Nico’s possession. How am I supposed to reach Landon now?The streets are deserted, not a soul in sight. Perfect for making a clean getaway. But then the skies open up and the rain starts pouring down heavily. Great, just what I need. I'm soa

CARISSAThe tattoo artist, a man who appears to be in his late thirties, with a long beard and long brown hair packed in a low bun, approaches me. His forearms and chest are covered in crazy tattoos. He gives me a kind smile, his strong French accent soothing my nerves. "Don't worry, cherie, it will be done in a minute. This is going to hurt like a bitch, but you are a strong girl, oui?"I glare at Nico, who is sitting directly opposite me, his legs crossed, his piercing icy blue eyes drinking in the sight of me. I'm cuffed to the chair, unable to escape. The tattoo artist begins preparing my skin, and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest.Nico suddenly stands up and leans down, his fingers grazing the top of my breasts, right where he wants the tattoo. I feel a jolt of electricity at his touch, despite my revulsion. He resumes his seat, his gaze never leaving me.I swallow hard as the tattoo needles get closer, the pain already searing through my skin. I'm about to scream when